Not Better Left Alone
by MP - Mary Contrary
Summary: The Perils of Trip.


On the fourth day of December, outside the city of Jacksonville, Florida, Charles "Trip" Tucker the Third discovered a new thing about Vulcans. As it seemed he did whenever he became comfortable enough to believe he might have discovered it all.

He discovered that Vulcans should not be left alone. With nothing to do.

And for largely the same reasons they required suppression of emotion, he supposed. Because horrific destruction would result from it.

He'd left T'Pol in the cabin he'd rented there for them, away from the city enough that they were not disturbed. But close enough that they could travel there easily if they needed anything.

They'd made love on the bed, and on the couch, and on the floor by the fire. And in the kitchen, kinda halfway up on the counter, sort of. Though calling that 'making love' might be pushing it a bit.

And they shared a private reading of Frankenstein, and their insights on that. Some of T'Pol's he'd found pretty damned fascinating, really.

And they'd watched television and a few movies he rented over the net. And they'd talked, dealt with some issues, come to some agreements and conclusions.

Then made love in the shower, on the bed again a couple more times and upstairs on top of the desk.

And under it. Which may or may not have constituted a separate incident of love-making. He wasn't really sure.

They'd stayed pretty busy, really. Because he'd always been the kind of guy to just be…_doing _something. All the time. He didn't sit around much.

And he just hadn't realized she didn't either, he supposed. There'd always been something that needed to be done on the Enterprise up to now. So she'd always stayed busy, right alongside him usually. And he'd only been on leave with her once, so far. To Vulcan. And that had turned out to be pretty busy and eventful too, as it happened.

Way too damned much for his tastes, really. Or, rather, in ways too bitter for his tastes, maybe. Sure would have been nice to have found something _else _to do on Vulcan than…well, all of _that _crap.

So when he had to leave to attend the ceremony at the memorial, for all the people who'd died in the Xindi attack, she'd stayed at the cabin. And that had been her idea, not his. Things were still pretty shaky, even after all this time, so a Vulcan showing up there would have probably caused a fuss or something.

He hated it, sure. But when she sicked logic on him there wasn't much he could do but argue about it. Just for argument's sake. Not like he expected to convince her to do anything she thought was illogical.

And she didn't like crowds. So he couldn't really argue any more after that. He wasn't about to make her do something uncomfortable.

But he decided then that if he was going to hare off to give some speech that he was going to be so uncomfortable himself giving, she should at least take an actual vacation of some kind. To just plain rest for a change. He kinda felt like he _had _to make sure she got that while he was away. He figured that's the sort of thing a bondmate was supposed to be mindful of, right?

So he'd argued that one with her. And damned if he didn't actually win for once. Wasn't quite sure how but…he had.

Kinda wished he hadn't, right about now…

* * *

><p>"But the cabin would benefit from being cleaned…"<p>

"T'Pol, darlin', just take a break for once, alright? Just kick back and don't do anything. You know, rest. Enjoy yourself."

"I've already slept. And meditated. And I don't require enjoyment from…"

"Look, will you just do this for me? Please?"

…

"Why?"

"Because it'll make me happy."

"It will make you happy if I have nothing to do?"

"Yes. It would make me very, very happy. And I can give this dumb speech a lot easier."

…

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Trust me. Just do this for me. You deserve a break."

"I don't want a break…"

"Please? Darlin'?"

…

"Very well."

"Good. I'll be back tomorrow. Probably before it gets dark. Just take care of yourself and we'll do something then. I promise."

"I'll be…here."

* * *

><p>Trip stared at the horror before him. He'd thrown open the door expecting to find T'Pol lounging around somewhere within, to sweep her off her feet in that way she continued to insist she did not approve of. But secretly did. Very much.<p>

But instead he found _this _waiting to greet him.

The couch had been dismantled.

_Dismantled_.

Completely.

The fabric cover…dear God, had been removed _perfectly_. Not torn off, or cut off…the stitches the damned thing had been held in place with had been cut.

_Once_.

_Each_.

And each whole long thread removed intact. How the hell she got them all out that way, in one piece…that was just…

And the fabric cover was folded precisely. Next to the cushions. Stacked next to the three individual fabric coverings of theirs. Which had likewise been removed perfectly.

And the frame had been dismantled. And each individual strut, spring, nut, bolt…_everything_, all placed just so in a perfectly ordered and arranged display on the floor where the thing that used to be the couch once sat.

And the television…oh dear God in heaven…she'd done the same thing to…

That canister there…what had she used that to…?

Oh, God. No. That's not possible. She couldn't have possibly done that.

Captured the gases in the _screen_? In _that? How? _That's not possible! Not without a…

Was that…? Had she ripped up the _book_? Frankenstein? They'd read it together just the other…!

No.

No, no, no.

She hadn't ripped it up.

She had _cut_ it up. Into perfect pieces. And rearranged the words she'd cut out of the book. To make little sentences about them.

_"My husband smells good."_

_"We have smiles that are dreadfully pretty."_

_"He left a provocative stain on the floor beneath the desk."_

She'd removed the windows from the walls over there...

The plasteel windows. And the steel frames. And she'd carefully removed the entire layer of paint coating those frames.

Not with sandpaper. Or a scrapper.

He had no idea how she'd got it off in such precise little strips. Strips that she'd stacked into a perfectly balanced tower on a piece of paper next to the other components that used to be the windows.

And the refrigerator…

It was too much.

It was just too, too much.

All he could do was stare in horror at her, while she stood there fidgeting and fretting at him.

"T'Pol…" He whispered. "My God…what have you done?"

And she fretted all the more. And fidgeted. And frowned.

"I was bored." She said.

* * *

><p><em>For my husband, in whose perils he is approved. ;)<em>

_- Mary_


End file.
